A Still, Small Voice
by Brin
Summary: Ever wondered what it was like in PsyOps? Those little bits we didn't see? Syl can tell you. And Max thought SHE had it bad. Puh.


Disclaimer: I don't own the characters that appear in the hit syndicated series Dark Angel (DAMMIT! Why didn't I think of it first?) , I only own the characters that I have created myself.

Summary: You don't know what it's like. Two of the worst things about Manticore—From Syl's POV.

A/N: I've never done Syl's POV before. This might be interesting. Maybe.

A Still, Small Voice 

By

**Brin**, proud member of the Fellowship of the Hot X5s

_There's a place so dark you can't see the end _

_Skies cock back and shock that which can't defend _

_The rain then sends dripping / acidic question _

_Forcefully, the power of suggestion _

_Then with the eyes shut / looking thought the rust and rot _

_And dust / a small spot of light floods the floor _

_And pours over the rusted world of pretend _

_The eyes ease open and its dark again_

—"Forgotten" by Linkin Park

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'd never seen someone so close to me die before, and I hoped I would never have to see it again. We had never come across a bird of such grand size and color… I hadn't known it wasn't an enemy. I had lifted my gun, had aimed carefully, had missed. Our ears, trained for anything different than the rustle of leaves and the chattering of squirrels, had heard him fall with such a resounding thud that even Zack froze in his trackers. I saw the reactions on their faces as they looked around for the enemy who had taken their brother, to find none.

Instead, they found me. My legs gave out from underneath me as I realized my fatal mistake and I sank to my knees, hot tears stinging my eyes and terror stabbing at my heart. I had killed Crowe. He had been the youngest and second smallest male in our unit. He had always loved birds, had always tried to follow the bigger kids around, had had one of the biggest hearts in the unit.

And I shot him.

We gathered 'round his tiny, pale body, eyes blurry with unshed tears, and watched the life fade from his eyes. Death was not a new thing to us. We had killed many, watched them die with animalistic relish… But we quickly found that it was different with Crowe. It was different than watching the condemned man dieing, or seeing the police tapes showing riots and protests gone wrong. He looked up at us before he died, eyes full of hope, and somebody had whispered, "He's going to the Good Place." He had tried to reply, but as he opened his mouth a trickle of blood flower from the corner of his lips. And then… he died.

Somebody screamed, but I could never recall who. Krit told me once that it was me who was screaming; that I had yelled and begged him to wake up again, my hands buried in his oversized fatigues. Zack told somebody to call for help and Jace ran off towards the barracks, though we all knew he was lost. The others took a step back from me, jaws open with shock and horror. One of them might've had their gun on me, just in case, but the world had blurred and shivered and swirled as my head tried to piece together what happened. I wouldn't have noticed if they had shot me in the head.

I remember, after a long while, looking to Krit for some kind of comfort, but his eyes were downcast. I tried Brin, Tinga, Ben, Max, Jack… but it was no use. Twigs and rocks were suddenly a lot more suitable to look at than me. I remember looking back at them over my shoulder as the Colonel and his troops came to take me away. The soldiers dragged me, one arm under each of mine, my hands handcuffed in front of me and my legs tied together—just in case. As I looked at my unit, my family, they were standing in a military position, eyes cast forward though not focusing on anything in particular, and none of them bothered to even to give me a parting glance.

It's not like I can blame them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Psy-Ops isn't what most people assume. It's barely-usable technology, with dire side effects in some cases. The first boy they ever tried it on had his brains blown out. When I was brought there, it seemed the technology had more or less gotten worse. The red laser burned into my left eye, setting fire to my skull and causing my brain to throb. Something big and plastic was placed into my mouth, hindering my speech, and into that they put more tubes that I could feel slide down my throat like worms. My arms and legs were strapped down with heavy-duty fiber with steel reinforcement. It was then I knew they were keeping me awhile.

"What happened?" asked a familiar voice.

"Colonel?" I said weakly, though with the tubes in my mouth the word sounded slurred. As soon as I said it, a violent shock ripped through my body, causing all my muscles to react painfully. My heart nearly burst out of my chest, the muscles in my arms and legs contracting unnaturally and causing the horrible cracking sound of strain against my bones. My lungs billowed out against my ribcage, my diaphragm painfully pushing against them.

"Don't ask questions, 701. Tell me what happened."

That damned laser was still burning into my pupil while this was going on, and the fire was slowly spreading from my skull to my spine. "There was a bird."

Another shock, this one less intense, but just as painful.

"There was no bird," declared the Colonel. I couldn't see him. "There was no bird, 701. We asked the others. There was no bird."

_There was no bird._ The words were forced into my mind; I could feel them. There was a screen above me, showing pictures of my brothers and sisters. With my heightened vision, I could see that every tenth frame held a different word.

DUTY.

"There was a bird," I stated harshly. A shock.

DISCIPLINE.

"There was no bird," he said.

"He was standing behind the bird. It flew away." Two shocks.

MISSION.

"There was no bird, 701."

SOLDIER.

"But Colonel—" Two more shocks.

DUTY.

_There was no bird,_ my mind screamed helplessly. I could feel my brain becoming traumatized by the repeated shocks. The burning sensation from the laser moved into my chest, making it hard to breathe. My eyes began to sting; I developed tunnel vision. "It was a big, black bird, Sir."

DISCIPLINE.

I waited for the shock to come, but it never did. Instead, some kind of liquid began moving into the tubes, down my throat, and into my stomach. The acidic liquid set fire to my already burning body, spreading to my arms and legs. I began to shake and convulse in pain.

MISSION.

"There was no bird, 701."

"I didn't kill him on purpose! There was a bird!" I screamed, nearly choking on the tubes.

The liquid changed from green to orange, and suddenly the world began to change colors. All I could see was black and white through my already limited vision.

SOLDIER.

"There was no bird, 701," he repeated harshly.

The screen changed to footage of me shooting Crowe. There was no bird.

"Do you see? There was no bird," said the voice.

_Not the Colonel._ _Not the Colonel. Not the Colonel._

"There was no bird," I repeated slowly, carefully. Then, I realized what I was saying. "There _was_ a bird, I tell you! I didn't mean to kill Crowe!"

DUTY. DISCIPLINE. HONOR. SOLDIER. TRUTH. COMRADE. LOYALTY. TRUST.

The words flicked by barely slow enough to see. At the mentioning of my brother's name, a horrendous shock filled my body. My muscles crunched down upon my bones, breaking both my arms and a few ribs. Blood trickled from my ankles and wrists as my arms strained against their restraints. My hands clamped shut so tightly that my knuckles turned stark white and my fingernails dug into my skin until it bled. The laser tightened its hold on my mind. Words flickered across my eyes, overlapping the ones on the projector screen.

THERE WAS NO BIRD. THERE IS NO CROWE. BE A SOLDIER. FORGET IT HAPPENED. FORGET. FORGET. FORGET. FORGET.

I don't know how long it went on, but by the time I woke up I was lying in my cot in the barracks. The others were gathered around my bed, looking down at me.

"Severely hindered night vision," said Zack in a monotone.

"Compound fractures in both the arms, minor fractures in three ribs, eight fingers, all ten toes, and both feet," added Jace.

"What happened?" asked Krit. "Did they take you to the bad place?"

I sat up and looked around cautiously. What if this was a trick? "No…"

"We caught the bird," announced Brin proudly. "And killed it for you."

I stared at her, glowing in all her youthful innocence, and narrowed my eyes. "There was no bird."


End file.
